


I'm (not) Sorry

by Batfink



Series: Clint has Issues, but he loves Tony [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: (implied not discussed), Clint Barton Feels, Clint Barton Has Issues, Clint has no Wife, Deaf Clint Barton, Drunkenness, Established Relationship, Feelings, Figuring out their relationship, Hurt Clint Barton, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Swearing, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony learns a valuable lesson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 13:32:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17684426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batfink/pseuds/Batfink
Summary: Prequel to 'I (don't) need your touch', exploring a pivotal moment in their relationship.





	I'm (not) Sorry

**Author's Note:**

> After writing the first fic, I kinda felt like I needed to defend Clint's actions, so I wrote this to try to explain a little bit better about their relationship and how it got to the way it was in the orignal story.

Clint exited the lift into Tony's penthouse and headed for the kitchen. It was late but he knew that Tony wouldn't have eaten yet. He was head first in Tony's giant fridge trying to reach a tub of coleslaw tucked in at the back when he was grabbed from behind, a hand sliding up under his shirt while another gripped his belt buckle.

Clint froze, an icy chill sliding through his veins seizing him in place. His heart pounding in his chest as the hand slid over his bare skin. Heavy alcohol soaked breath burst against the skin behind his hearing aid before a voice, gruff and slurred whispered in his ear. “Hey, handsome.”

Tony! Clint's panicked brain supplied. Tony. The ice in his veins began to warm. It's only Tony. Tony, who should know better. Suddenly, a white hot rage flooded Clint. His frozen muscles boiling with the need to move. He snapped upright and stepped back moving Tony back also as he turned in his grip. “Get the fuck off me!” He growled, pushing firmly against Tony's chest to either side of the arc reactor until he could put space between their bodies.

Clint's heart still thundered in his chest. Fight or flight battling in his mind. He would not fight Tony. It wasn't his fault Clint was so screwed up, but Tony knew better than to trigger him. Or at least, Clint looked into Tony's bleary eyes, he did when he was sober.

Tony's reactions were dulled by the alcohol so it took no effort for Clint to step free of his grip and bolt for the lift. Thankfully, Tony didn't try to stop him. Clint didn't think he could have coped with that. His mind was already starting it's time worn flashback reel. He didn't need to be adding Tony's face to the horrors of his past. Stupid as he felt for it, he couldn't shake the memories.

\--- 

Tony awoke face down on his sofa and when he tried to turn over, he fell to the floor with a bone jarring thud that added to his pounding headache. Dragging himself to his feet, he shuffled to the kitchen for coffee. He flicked the coffee maker on and turned to get the milk.

The fridge door was standing open, a tub of coleslaw exploded on the floor in front of it. Tony closed his eyes and sighed, dread rising up. The only person in the tower who ate coleslaw was Clint. “Jarv?” Tony hesitantly began. “What the hell did I do last night?”

\--- 

Tony took a deep breath and knocked on Clint's door. Waiting briefly for a response. “Jarv?”

“The room is unoccupied sir.” Jarvis replied.

Tony tried the door. Unlocked. That wasn't unusual for Clint, or any of the other Avengers. The tower was their home. The only other people with access to these floors were friends, more like family really.

He cautiously stepped inside and crossed to where he knew the ceiling duct access panel was located. Grabbing a nearby chair he hopped up and unclipped the hatch letting it drop open on its hinges.

Tony hated the air ducts, but he hauled himself upwards anyway. After about ten minutes of crawling awkwardly, banging his elbows regularly and cursing frequently, feeling like John McClane, he suddenly remembered something Clint had told him when they had talked about his duct obsession before.

He twisted, banging and clanking until he was lying on his back then pulled up his knees. This way he was able to push with his feet and get an almost walking sort of sliding motion going. Suddenly, it was a lot easier to progress. This option also allowed him to easily see when he had reached his destination, a duct panel that opened on the top side instead of the bottom. He pushed and the hatch popped open allowing him to haul himself up out of the duct.

Tony glanced around. He was on the unoccupied thirteenth floor of the tower. Electrical wires, data cables and the numerous other colourful man-made snakes that kept his tower running criss-crossed over the floor, draped from the walls and tangled below the windows. If he had known this was where Clint liked to hide out, he could have taken the lift. As with most hi-rise buildings the general lift skipped the thirteenth floor, but the maintenance lift stopped here. Tony did actually have technicians to deal with normal tower running issues.

He picked his way past the server room and hopped across a mass of power cables as he searched for Clint. Aside from the server room, this floor was mainly open plan. Just a few small rooms over by the windows on the far side. One was a storage room, piled with spare desks, filing cabinets, etc. One was a locked vault, where Tony stored some of his outdated but still worth stealing tech. The last was empty, save for Clint sitting sideways on the window ledge. Feet up staring out at the view of the city.

Tony paused in the doorway. “Ears on?” He asked referring to Clint's hearing aids. Clint nodded his head fractionally.

“My mother always told me...” Tony began. “That you can't really be sorry, unless you know what you are sorry for.” He stepped into the room and sat down crossed legged on the floor, keeping his distance from both Clint and the door. “So, I am sorry for upsetting you, because I know that much, but I'm not sorry I touched you because I don't know why I should be?” He looked up at Clint and waited for a response.

Clint turned, swinging his legs down to dangle off the windowsill. “I suppose, you should be sorry because you did something I explicitly asked you not to do, on more than one occasion.” He said softly, but there was anger in his voice.

“I know you asked me not too, but I don't know why.” Tony replied.

“Why does that matter?” Clint countered.

Tony sighed. “Why can't you let me in?”

Clint slid off the windowsill and crossed to Tony, collapsing himself down to sit in front of him. “It's not about keeping you out, Tony.” He huffed before launching into a rant.

“What purpose would it serve either of us for me to rip open my chest and let my demons spill out over you? You want to know how fucked up my past was? Why? How does it help either of us if I bleed out my soul so you can satiate your need to know? Would it help if you felt sorry for me? If you pitied me? How would it help our relationship if I horrified you, disgusted you, disappointed you, because I was too young, too weak, to fight back?” A tear slipped down Clint's cheek and he wiped at it roughly, clearly frustrated.

Tony's fingers itched to reach out to him. To comfort him. He shifted and quickly stuffed his hands under his thighs where they rested on the floor. It killed a part of him to see Clint so upset and not be able to do anything about it.

“Oh!” Tony gasped as suddenly, almost painfully, the realisation hit him. Right here was the problem. His problem. He felt powerless to help Clint and he couldn't handle it. He couldn't make it better and of course, knowing what happened in Clint's past wouldn't change that. Wouldn't give him the power to help Clint.

“I'm sorry.” Tony blurted. “I get it now. You're right. It wouldn't help either of us for you to tell me. I can't fix it and I can't suddenly make it all better just by knowing. It would only cause you more pain by making you re-live it. I'm sorry.”

Clint smiled. It was a tiny, shaky smile, but a smile none the less. He reached his hand out and Tony, hesitantly removed his hand from under his thigh, held it out, letting Clint take hold of it. He squeezed Tony's hand, then let it go. “We good?” He asked softly.

Tony smiled. “Yeah Clint. We're good.”


End file.
